


Mieczyslaw's Body

by VVV_Trevino



Category: Jennifer's Body (2009), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aiden & Ethan (Teen Wolf) are Part of the Pack, Allison Argent Lives, Allison Argent is Part of the Hale Pack, Angst and Tragedy, Attempted Murder, Bad Ending, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Brutal Murder, But they don't appear in this story they're just mentioned, Danny Mahealani is Part of the Pack, Deaths, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Erica Reyes Lives, Everyone is Part of the Pack, F/M, Gen, Good Peter Hale, Hale-McCall Pack, Halloween story, Horror, Jackson Whittemore is Part of the Pack, Jennifer's Body Inspired, Lydia Martin is Part of the Pack, M/M, Mentioned Isaac Lahey, Mentioned Malia Tate, Mentioned Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Mild Gore, Minor Original Character(s), Murder Mystery, Original Character Death(s), Protective Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Sad Ending, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) is Part of the Pack, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Pack, Succubi & Incubi, Temporary Character Death, True Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Vernon Boyd Lives, Void Stiles, Void Stiles (mentioned), and somewhat a, if you've seen jennifer's body then you'll understand, sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVV_Trevino/pseuds/VVV_Trevino
Summary: When Halloween night ends with a burned building, multiple mutilated bodies, and a drastically different Stiles, the Pack must figure out what happened to Stiles that night and who's behind all the murders. While the newly demon possessed Stiles satisfies his appetite for human flesh with the school's female population, his leftover human soul, vows to put an end to the whole over deal even if it includes himself. But the bodies Stiles leaves behind to be discovered aren’t the only ones appearing all over Beacon Hills.Started: October 16, 2020Finished: October 23, 2020Edited: October 24-30, 2020Published: October 31, 2020
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, it's a mutual crush thing but Derek doesn't wanna end up in jail so, not really since stiles is underage
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Mieczyslaw's Body

Stiles' brown eyes met Scott’s as the other boy jogged out from his class. Stiles shifted his body to stand more upright as his puppy dog friend approached him.

Scott beamed, “I think I aced it!” while adjusting his backpack straps.

“That's great! I just knew you would!” Stiles grins pulling his friend into a side hug for celebration but Scott is lost in excitement as he goes in for a tight hug instead, knocking the wind out of Stiles. Scott always had drive, determination, spunk, and tenacity; he put a lot of effort into anything he did. He carried confidence in everything he did, especially after the werewolf bite years ago. 

“Dude! Fragile human here!” Scott instantly jumps back with widened eyes and rapid apologies. 

Stiles' eyes met Allison’s as she ran over and asked, “How did the test go?” Allison leans against the lockers with an easy smile on her face as the rest of the student body hurries to their next class.

Scott stood proud between them, “I aced it!” Stiles raises a brow and laughs under his breath at Scott’s quick shushing sign out of Allison’s eye sight.

“That's great!” She stood upright and kissed him. Stiles gave a low sigh. It was torture to be next to the lovey dovey couple once they began eating each other’s faces.

Fortunately, his friend's tongue fight was interrupted by their strawberry haired friend Lydia, “You guys ready for tonight's party?” Her smile was bright as she separated them.

Scott nodded, “Yeah, I need a break after this nightmare of a test.” Stiles shakes his head causing all his friends to stare at him, silently demanding a reasonable reason.

The bell rang, making them all jump, Stiles slammed his locker shut walking backwards to his next class, “I’m grounded remember!” He waves goodbye to his friends before taking off on a light jog knowing his history teacher will be giving him detention for being late..

Stiles sometimes felt like the outcast in his group of friends but he knows that they care for him in their own way, especially during fights with other supernatural creatures. And truthfully he was not looking forward to the following weeks since he knew they’ll be out in the preserve looking for the creature that’s leaving behind mutilated bodies while pretending he didn’t have a thing for Derek Hale and trying to control his scent so his werewolf buddies don’t figure it out. Damn werewolves and their funky noses! He should really have a talk with Deaton about hiding his scent. Ignoring his teacher’s yell of detention, Stiles sits in the back of the class in an exhausted haze wanting to go home and sleep.

He wonders if they will ever live peacefully in the quiet community that’s Beacon Hills, surrounded by dense woods and mirrored lakes without worrying about being killed by creatures of the night. Beacon Hills is the kind of town with one high school (theirs), one pizza joint that sold cardboard and called it food, and one stoplight that everyone ran. With a population that decreases every month, there wasn't much to do. Except go see some stupid band named High Leg, the newest, hottest thing to happen to music. Lydia and Erica had been itching to see them live and finally convinced the rest of the pack to join them. Stiles didn’t like them and he had no idea why, it was just a gut feeling. The usual one he’ll get around potential murderers but this time he hopes to be wrong.

  
  
  


_________________

  
  
  


Erica sniffed around a bit and quickly spotted who they were there to see, “Look, there's the band!” They all turned and followed the point of Erica’s finger. A misfit group of indie rock boys were getting out of their van and headed into the club.

Lydia gasped and shoved Jackson inside the dark bar, “Let's go! Let's go!”

The place smelled like smoke, woodlands, and cheap beer. There was a small crowd growing but the pack made their way forward. High Leg was setting up their equipment on the blackened stage. Each band member could pass for an emo-scene-punk-goth catalog model. Chains, ripped pants, chunky boots, and black eyeliner completed each ensemble.

Lydia sighed, “God they’re disappointing. Their style is horrendous.” Erica nodded in reply but she still stared at the band, awestruck. Jackson walked away from their little group and headed over to Danny who had arrived an hour earlier than them. Stiles stood awkwardly in the back next to Boyd who kept yawning every five minutes.

Allison shrugged, “Hopefully they play well.” Stiles looked around the bar catching sight of many familiar faces from school and noticed Scott whip his head towards the entrance. It’s a miracle his best friend didn’t get whiplash or maybe it was just his werewolf healing. He opens his mouth to ask who walked in when every single one of his friends split off going their own ways. Well, not even ten minutes inside the building and everyone has already gone off on their own little adventure. He stumbles forward as the crowd starts getting thicker with more late newcomers and drunken people.

The band stood at the front of the stage, talking to fans and signing autographs, their words reaching Stiles who had somehow ended up near the stage from all the shoving. “We’re just starting out, thank you for coming.” They were polite to each fan but seemed distant to the scantily clad women and to the men in general.

A shiver goes down his spine as one of the band members sees him from behind a fan, Stiles awkwardly waves before walking off towards the bartender behind the bar. One of the good things from this bar is that the owners and the bartender didn’t care how old you were as long as you paid for your drink. Ordering a Bloody Mary, Stiles leans against the wall at the end of the bar deciding to stay near the stage and watch the band when they perform.

Intense is the word that bounces around Stiles head as he watches the band members of High Leg prepare their equipment for tonight's show. Their aura makes him sick along with the intoxicating smell of alcohol, smoke, and a close resemblance of locker room sweat. He feels the back of his shirt become humid as the heat of the small bar rises at a snail's pace. His gut twists into a knot while his brain waves a red flag followed by a shrilling alarm. With shaky hands and a hazy vision he takes a sip of his awful Bloody Mary hoping the coolness of the drink will calm his nerves.

Stiles bitterly curses out his friends under his breath wondering why he let them drag him out of his home. He had piles of homework to do from the past week since he had neglected it to research about ghouls. But did his friends care. No, they were bored out their minds and wanted to have fun; while a **_ghoul_ ** is out and about eating people. Lydia had even convinced _Derek_ to join them but from what he has seen, their everyday sourwolf hasn’t arrived yet. 

Stiles had planned to stay home the whole weekend and finish up his homework in time for their ghoul hunt on Monday night. Those plans were thrown out the window once Scott showed up at his house giving him the puppy eyes, followed by a razor sharp glare from Jackson. Allison had even been pouting. And while that was going on, Lydia told him to “get ready, we're going out tonight.”

She hadn't even given him the chance to ask his dad for permission! And he already knew the answer was going to be no because he was grounded! Sure his dad was out patrolling the town and wouldn't return till the following morning. But still, he didn't want to break his father's trust once again.

Plus it was his friend's fault that he got grounded. Jackson had been losing control of his wolf in class and Stiles had dragged him into the woods for the rest of the day. That was the twelfth time Stiles skipped his last two classes in the past month helping out his werewolf friends. The counselor had called his dad with the news and Stiles had promptly received a single three worded text.

**Grounded. Two months.**

He didn't deserve it. But his dad was growing tired of the supernatural creating problems in Stiles' life. He leaned against the wall shuddering, feeling he was being stared at in a creepy manner. Stiles glanced around thinking it was one of his friends or sourwolf. Scott and Allison were making heart eyes at each other a bit towards his right. 

On the other side of the room, Lydia and Jackson were glaring at anyone who got near them while Erica and Boyd made out next to the stage. Danny was flirting with any hot guy that appeared lonely and Derek was glaring right at him. Well, the mystery is solved, the sourwolf has arrived. He rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue before letting himself relax a bit. "Stop staring it's creepy."

Stiles grinned as Derek's eyes flashed blue for a few seconds. "I know I'm handsome but please tune down the glare." Derek kept glaring at him before Erica and Boyd dragged the wolf to who knows where. He let out a small laugh. He was being paranoid for no reason and returned his gaze towards the stage taking another sip of his drink.

The leader of High Leg catches his eyes with a small toothy grin. The last bit of the cold Bloody Mary slides down his throat freezing his veins. The grin grows wider as they maintain eye contact. Stiles tries to breath and count his fingers wishing for the night to be over with. But the many voices mixed with his accelerating heartbeat aren't helping him calm down. 

He doesn't trust the band. Call it an intuition. He wants to get out of this stupid bar and forget this night ever happened before it gets worse. Okay, so far it's been a good night but now he knows why he was being a paranoid freak. The band gives him the heavies and his brain is telling him to walk away.

There's four of them and they're all staring at him but their leader is grinning like a psychopath. Stiles looks them over trying to figure out if they're a supernatural creature. The drum player seems intimidating with his tallness and large muscles but his blond straw like hair ruins it. Then the guitar player looks like a stick that'll fall over at a small breeze with an ashy bowl cut hair. Third of the bunch sits on a stool behind the keyboard, his legs not even reaching the floor, the only one with obnoxious colored hair and a face filled with piercings.

Finally the leader of the band, his black eyes pierce through his soul as he slowly takes in the leader’s looks. He’s one of those lanky but muscular guys with a buzzcut and covered in tattoos from head to toe. They whisper amongst each other without looking away from him not even when their fans try gaining their attention. He doesn’t know how to react, should he run over to his friends or stand in place like a moron and be a vulnerable human. Stiles starts whispering Scott’s name hoping to be saved as he begins to panic. 

"Hey, you alright?" A wave of relief hits him as the staring contest ends once he turns to face his best friend Scott. "Y-" The acidity bile slushing in the back of his throat catches him off guard. The room slides vertically downwards as he tumbles to the ground reaching for leverage. Boiling heat sears his palms and with a pounding heart Scott's voice becomes muffled. His surroundings fall away leaving behind the wooden floor covered in black burn marks. 

_One_ , breathing deeply through his nose doesn't get him fresh air. The smell of burning flesh empties out his stomach without a warning. _Two_ , blinking rapidly doesn't clear his vision. Black thick smoke fills his eyes with tears making everything blurry. _Three_ , straining his hearing doesn't give him a hopeful sound. 

Piercing screams and pleas for help stab at his ears obscuring the burning creaky wood. _Four_ , patting the ground doesn't find him a way out. It burns off his skin to the bone at an agonizing pace. _Five_ , screaming till his mouth dries up and his throat burns doesn't save him. It leads him to another painful journey of hacking coughs.

Unfamiliar hands reach towards him in a haste and push him on his back. His vision goes black for a split second as his head pounds in pain. He has no idea what’s happening. Stiles hears whimpers and shocking sobs around him and wonders who’s making the noise. The back of his shirt begins to tug and rip as he’s dragged across the floor. Nothing makes sense, he can’t even get his eyes to function in the thick blackness in front of him.

"What's your name?" He feels his lips move but no words fall out. _Scott, where's Scott? Lydia!? Allison! Derek! Jackson!_

"Just get him out of here!" More than one person drags him for what feels like an eternity. He thinks he hears his name somewhere in the distance but it doesn’t sound like any of his friends' voices. But if it isn’t his friends then who's dragging him out of the bar?

From the ground he's able to see the chaos surrounding him. Some people are pinned to the ground by giant slabs of wood. Others were trampled into a gory puddle. But the majority are burning alive and screaming bloody murder. The ceiling is covered in black smoke as his lungs slowly gain clean air. 

He has no idea what's going on. He can't think straight with all the screams and the smell of over cooked skin. Something wet rolls down his cheeks causing him to panic. _Is it blood? Why am I bleeding!?_ Small wheezes crawl out of his throat and he doesn't know if he's still gasping for air or crying. A shrilling sound reaches his ears followed by the silent night.

The back door of the bar falls shut somewhat muffling the pain of the victims still inside. _Wait...Scott! Scott's still inside! Where did he go? He was right next to me!_ The pavement scratches at his back giving way to the rock filled dirt. 

"Quick throw him inside and tie him up." His body reacts before his brain can catch up and spams trying to break free. _Who the hell are these people?_ He tries in vain to see who they are but the pounding in his head stops him. And all he can smell now is fire mixed with wet dirt. 

Sirens filled the dark night as he's pulled up into the air and limply hangs from the strangers arms. _My dad's coming!_ He wants to run and scream for his dad but his throat just aches with every breath he takes. He can still taste the liquidate remains of his lunch along with a salty wetness that lingers on his lips. Usually he would be flailing around and spitting out sarcastic comments to throw off his nappers.

But he can feel himself shutting down as black spots fill the corners of his eyes. Stiles takes deep breaths at a rapid pace as the wailing sirens get closer. His heart pounds against his rib cage making him dizzy. The burning bar gets farther away slowly becoming a red dot in the night. He doesn't fight his captors as he's thrown into their vehicle. 

"Why is he gasping for air like a fish out of the water?" Stiles stops breathing for a split second as he sees the face of one of his kidnappers. The fucking drum player of the band with scarecrow hair. He knew they weren't to be trusted. 

"He's probably going into shock since his hands are burned." Stiles glances down at his hands and his brain stops functioning. Sobs shake his body at the sight of his ruined hands. Blood. So much blood.

"Here tie him up with this." He feels himself keel over, hitting the floor of the van with a heavy thump. The band. The band! He’s being kidnapped by a lousy fucking band! He can’t think of any reason as to why a band would kidnap him. Are they hunters? Supernatural creatures or just sick human beings? But what Stiles really wants to know is why he can’t feel his limbs.

"Shit!" Scarecrow gags his mouth with a strip of cloth once the vans door is slammed shut. "I need more rope." Scarecrow holds him down as one of the other band members starts the engine. NO! He can’t be kidnapped again! He begins to kick like a wild horse feeling his heart swell in satisfaction as the cries from his nappers grow with every kick he throws. "Hold him down and hurry the fuck up! The cops are almost here!" 

A rough punch to the stomach kicks all the air from Stiles lungs causing him to gag over nothing. _What’s the point?_ He closes his eyes for who knows how long. The hum of the engine, scratchy patches of the road, and the faint sound of sirens slowly pulling him into a daze. He’s tired. He’s tired of fighting. Everything seems blurry once he opens his eyes to catch a glimpse of his dull surroundings. Stiles stares unblinking at the ground slowly getting smeared with his blood, wishing for the night to be a fucking nightmare. His pockets are ransacked as the van hits multiple bumps on the road. “M-Mishesslaw? Stilinski, seventeen years old.” The others cackle like hyenas and cheer as if it’s the greatest news they have ever heard. These people are either going to use him as bait to gain his friends attention or torture him for information. An image of Gerard’s face passes through his mind for a split second making his blood run cold with the memory of the past.

He cries out in pain as one of them harshly pats his injured hands. “He’ll make a great sacrifice.” What? What the fuck! Not another sacrifice. He notices that there was glow-in-the-dark satanic imagery painted all over the walls: goats heads, pentagrams, and strange coded writing. He also sees a few books sliding around on the floor: "Spells and Incantations" as well as "Summoning the Beast”. They’re summoning a demon. If his friends don’t find him soon...he’ll die for no reason. He won’t even serve a purpose for the sacrifice. 

Shivers ran down his body as a thought hit his brain and with a pounding thud of a beat from his heart. He realizes the worst thing possible that could happen to him in the world. He’s not a virgin. Stiles screamed until his throat felt like it was a raw piece of meat and bleeding in spurts. His legs grow tired from kicking at his kidnappers. He knew it had been useless anyway but he wanted to live. He wanted to give the band a hard time before they killed him. The van rumbled down an uneven forest path, deep into the woods and came to a stop. Once the van doors are slid open, the drummer grabs his ankles, causing him to fall on the forest floor. There was a crude stone altar illuminated by moonlight just on the edge of the Nemeton waiting for them.

Stiles spasms as the memory of the past fills his mind. The Void. The drummer speaks up, “This is a lot of effort, do we even know if he’s a virgin?” A glint of hope entered Stiles’ eyes. Maybe they would believe him when he tells the truth and he could save himself. He stammered once he’s ungagged, “No...no! I’m not a virgin! I've had sex! Just a few months ago too. So maybe you should find some other person who's actually a virgin.”

He hears all four of them laugh in disbelief and whisper amongst each other as he’s laid on the ground near the Nemeton. He rested there in the dark, trying to get his breathing under control. Counting his fingers was useless to help with his upcoming panic attack. He had no clue if he was even going to have a panic attack. He couldn’t remember if he already had one sometime during the journey to his death. The thought of his death hits him like a truck as he stares at the twinkling stars that fill the night sky. _I’m going to die tonight,_ he tells himself. He’s going to end up in Criminal Minds. Or one of those crime shows his dad teased him for watching so religiously. 

That thought made Stiles laugh for some reason. All the times he thought about living in an episode of a tv show, it hadn’t been like this. He could almost hear Spencer Reed telling him how many hours he had to live, and the laughter choked off, into tears morphed into sobs until he felt like he was drowning. He wanted to go home. He wanted his dad. He doesn’t remember the last word he said to his dad. Were they words filled with teenage hate or words filled with love from a boy who had lost his mother at a young age and feared losing his father. Stiles tried to think. There had to be something he could do, to alert his werewolves friends of his whereabouts, but once four shadows fell over him followed by the gleam of a sharp knife. 

He knew it was too late.

Stiles’ eyes widened, “Wait, wait.” Two of them picked him up and held him down over the altar. “No! No!” He screamed louder and struggled against them. His back strained against the cold rock of the altar and he kicked his feet at the herbs and candles around it.

A fog was setting in and the leader of the band emerged with a piece of parchment and a ritual blade, “We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of…” he paused and leaned down, “What's your name again?”

He started sobbing, “Go to hell!”

The drum player throws a wallet to the leader, the leader nods and says Stiles' name with no difficulty “-Mieczysław, in the name of your most unholyness.”

He blinked his tears away, “Please let me go.”

The leader stared down at him, “Don't you know that me and my boys are in league with the Beast himself? We've spent months making offerings to the man downstairs, and whaddya know? Satan delivered! We went from college radio to being courted by the majors in two months. But that's not enough, Mieczy. We want it all!”

His chest heaved as he tried to take deep breaths, “Please…”

He leaned in closer to him, “So sorry, darling.” He stood upright and shouted, “Start chanting, boys!” The group began chanting gibberish in unison. Stiles watched in disbelief as their eyes grew hollow and black. Where the fuck are his werewolf friends!? They always arrive on time! The leader began in a deep voice, “With deepest malice, we deliver this virgin unto thee. On this night, under the cursed moon, we call upon thee.”

Candles around the altar flicked on, their flames dancing red and spewing out smoke. He raises the huge gleaming knife high above Stiles’ heart. He pleaded again, “No please don’t do this.” He didn’t want to die yet. He didn’t want to die because of a stupid indie band who works with the devil. 

His speech continued, “May your crimson flame rise up and cascade across this land. Deliver onto us what we desire.” He moved the knife above Stiles’ body, making a seal and sigil within the air, “Come forth evil one, and deliver.” In an instant he brought the knife downward.

Stiles screamed as it tore his flesh and slid through his rib cage. The leader pulled the knife back from the wound and wiped it against a cloth. Stiles wheezed through his pierced lung, he suddenly realized how cold out it was. He saw the fog and smoke grow thick, his body felt numb. He missed his dad.

He heard their redeciding footsteps followed by the sound of an engine and tires. Stiles stared at the stars as they slowly became a bottomless pit of darkness. 


End file.
